Like a Banshee, Love a Banshee
by Vampy.rEVOLution666
Summary: "'Stiles...' Scott's eyes were now glowing as red as the bloodstains on Lydia's manicured hands. 'Stiles...' 'RUN'" The gang is split up. Someone's hurt. A winter storm is looming and Lydia and Stiles are forced to take shelter together in an old, one-bed, wood cabin, surrounded by ancient banshee magic. STYDIA MARTINSKI.
1. Chapter 1

**_AN:_** _Hello All!_

 _Excuse the first chapter for lack of Stydia but I just needed to set the scene to start off and personally I think it gets better from there on out :)_

 _Also feel absolutely free to review, rant, mourn and simply express your feelings on season 6 being the last, how sensational the previous 5 were and how Stydia has been a long time coming and doesn't Jeff Davis just know it..._

 _Eagerly awaiting your response – A. Xxx_

Chapter One

"Hey Stilinski, you don't happen to have a leash in that backpack of yours, do you? It's just, your fucking mouth keeps running. " Isaac grumbled. Stiles answered the werewolf in harsh whispers, dripping with his usual sarcasm.

"Umm, yeah actually I think...I think I do...yeah, it's, ugh...right here!" He held out his right arm and an extended middle finger. "I ought to actually invest in one for you, Lahey...maybe a sparkly collar while we're at it, not to mention a fucking muzzle."

"Guys. Come on." Their alpha scolded them from his crouched position just ahead of the two, testy boys. In total, there were six members of the pack hunched over, behind a large, rotting tree stump in the freezing Canadian weather surrounded by dark, dense conifers.

"I'm 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bones, Scott. Sarcasm is my only defence." Stiles reasoned.

"That's all well and good Stiles" said Lydia "but Allison, Kira and I all agree that we don't want to be eaten alive tonight and speaking of, can we get up yet, Scott? My shoes are not ok with all the peat."

The pale beta with mousey-brown hair and chiselled cheekbones began to question... "Who the fuck is Pete, Lydi..."

"She's talking about all the dead vegetation you're currently crouching on dumbass!" Stiles explained, already irked by Isaac. They'd all come a long way in Chris Argent's old camper and it had been two weeks since they'd left Beacon Hills; everyone was starting to feel as though they were living out of each others' pockets perhaps a little too much.

"Seriously, everyone needs to cool it." Scott said. "I think we're ok for now but if you two keep arguing then that thing is going to circle back around and successfully kill us all. So shut the fuck up." Isaac, along with Stiles, accepted their alpha's wishes and Scott rose from their hiding space behind the old tree and everyone else followed.

The pack began making their way across the uneven, forest floor; six clouds of hot breath hung like speech bubbles over each and every one of their heads. For a short while, all that could be heard was the crunch of frosty, decomposing leaves beneath a dozen walking boots, accompanied by a chilling, whistling wind. Stiles Stilinski, however, was never one to be silent for very long...

"How in the hell are we in fucking Alberta right now?! I mean, we tracked this bastard all the way to frickin' Canada for God's sake and I'm freezing my balls off because of it...I mean it's alright for half of us...you guys have fur, fucking, coats but what about the more perishable half of the group?"

"Stiles," Lydia began, moving some of her long, red hair away from the corner of her lips so she could scold her hyperactive friend with more ease, "try running around in subzero temperatures butt-naked for a few days and nights." Lydia gave Stiles a pointed look with raised eyebrows. The rest of the pack couldn't help but laugh.

"Suck it up, Stilinski." Allison smiled, her stunning dimples beamed on her porcelain cheeks as she patted Stiles on the back with an air of camaraderie. She continued past him and went on to link arms with her grinning, boyfriend, who, Stiles thought, looked a bit too smug. In case you couldn't tell, Stiles and Isaac's tentative 'friendship' was still in its early stages but they were making progress. Slowly.

"Touché." Stiles happily conceded with a grin. It only reminded him of the fact that he had, indeed, seen Lydia Martin naked and lived to tell the tale...or rather retell it to his right hand every once in awhile. It's a good job ice-cool, Albertan air works just as well as a cold shower.

"You know," Kira spoke up, "I would totally feel a lot cooler if more of the gang was here. We've only seen this thing a few times but from what I can tell, it's frickin' huge."

"Yeah, but Derek and Braeden are in France with my dad right now..." Allison pointed out.

"Malia started fucking Theo and pissed off with him to go find her mom so I think it's safe to say they're out of the question..." Stiles stated clinically with a blank expression. He was mindlessly scuffing his boots, kicking at fallen debris as the close-knit group trudged on. Scott and Lydia turned to look back at him with an air of concern and furrowed brows. Everyone agreed that Stiles' reaction, or rather lack thereof, to Malia cheating on him had not been expected...there was no anger, no tears, just a meek acceptance. It was completely the opposite of Stiles' entire persona, it was all rather odd and no one had yet to get to the bottom of it.

"Good riddance." Lydia fumed.

"Agreed." Said Allison, the others nodded in approval.

"Yeah," Scott piped up, "and there is no way I was going to make Liam and Hayden miss any more school, I'm there alpha and I think they should at least get through junior year before I start dragging them half way cross country to chase all that is evil."

"I think I'm with Kira on this one guys." Isaac said. "I know education's important an' all but so is staying alive, y' know?" He smiled.

"Ha. Very true, babe." Allison said to appease him, smiling as she did so.

The conversation eventually dulled as it became harder to hear each other over the increasingly strong wind, even for those with supernatural hearing the weather seemed ridiculous. Each member of the pack had turned up their collars and hoods in a futile attempt to gain some protection from the blustery gale.

"McCall!" Lydia attempted to yell over the fierce current of air that was whipping around her. "Practically all the trees are at a forty-five degree angle, more and more snow is settling on the ground each and every second! I think Alberta wants a repeat of '67 and unless you want to end up like Luca Brasi, I say we make like Malia and get the fuck out of here, Scott!"

"What?!" He squinted through the onslaught of rain and sleet that was presently beating down upon his tanned face, trying to understand what the banshee girl was saying. "Stiles, translate?!"

"She's saying that this frickin' rain is turning almost biblical Scott and unless we wanna be sleeping with the fishes we should find shelter! Dude! How the hell have you not seen _The Godfather_ yet?!" Stiles yelled over the rigorous wind, outraged.

"I've been kinda busy, Stiles."

"Did you even watch _The Wolf Man_?!" Stiles pressed.

"No, nor have I seen _Star Wars_ either..." Scott frustrated rant was interrupted before his best friend could become too riled up. A magnificent groan came from the left of the pack; before they knew it an old Redwood was uprooted by the gale force winds and began its decent, crashing towards the frozen ground before them.

"MOVE!" Scott ordered and everyone ducked for cover as sharp, icicle-ridden branches whipped through the air, slashing at their thermals.

"Oh shit." Isaac breathed as he sat up surround by snow. Not too far from them, a dark figure, sickly-yellow eyes ablaze, was breathing heavily as it perched on the ancient roots of the fallen lumber. Its talon-like claws were embedded deep within the flaking bark.

"Umm, Scott..." Kira whispered shakily, clutching her boyfriend's forearm. When her supernatural eyes became accustomed to her surroundings, she too, noticed the eerie form as it materialised from among the blackness.

The alpha, the beta and the kitsune all blazed daggers into the darkness and were about to launch into attack mode when they were halted by a familiar metallic stench.

"Stiles..." A broken voice came from among piles of snow and fractured branches. Lydia removed her hand which had been pressed firmly against her breast bone, wet and crimson as ever.

"Oh my god, Lydia!" Immediately, Stiles unwrapped his scarf from around his neck, aiding the petit redhead by pressing the folded up material against the open gash across her chest. A particularly nasty branch had struck her, tearing through multiple items of newly-bought clothing and several layers of skin. She hissed in pain, lightheaded and woozy, clinging to Stiles for support as they stumbled up from cold ground.

"Stiles, get her out of here, now." Scott's voice was meticulously cold and held no room for negotiation. He meant business and his best friend understood that. Allison had already rummaged around her knapsack and was pulling out her cross bow, a second bolt hung in her nimble fingers ready to reload. "Stiles..." Scott's eyes were now glowing as red as the bloodstains on Lydia's manicured hands; they were trained on something in the obscurity of the forest that Stiles could not see, as were Isaac and Kira's.

"Stiles..."

"RUN!"


	2. Chapter 2

_**AN:**_ _So I'm not entirely sure if people even like this but I wrote another chapter just for the heck of it because I love Stydia and maybe they'll be a bigger response if you guys can see where this fic is headed more clearly. I would love to hear some responses. Please tell me if I'm doing anything wrong, sometimes I think my writing is half decent and then other times I'm cringing but oh well :) haha x Also if there are typos please excuse me and I'll try to rectify them. Enjoy. - A_

Chapter Two

Stiles guessed it had been only a few minutes since he and Lydia had separated from the rest of the pack and knew the road was not much further than that. If he could just find the tracks leading to the level crossing they'd passed over earlier, Stiles was confident that he could find the RV. Only then would he be able to try and clean up the gash on Lydia's chest.

It was in this moment, that he wished Melissa has come with them; his mental tally of cuts and bruises everyone had gained along the way was incomprehensible.

"Stiles?" The banshee was leaning pretty heavily on the boy that stood beside her now; eyelids drooping. His scarf, held in place by Lydia's zipped up body warmer, was starting to look sticky with the ever-increasing, congealing red substance. Stiles didn't need a supernatural sense of smell to know that it was a lot of blood.

"Yeah, Lyds. I'm still here. You good?" He kept pushing forward; it was becoming increasingly harder to do so because of the hurricane-like winds and torrential snow that was falling all around them. He could see the red lights blinking from the level crossing just up ahead, a bell sounded in the distance and the barrier began to close.

A train was coming.

"I think I'm ok, just dizzy..."

"Good. Stay with me. Come on."

"Are we...nearly there?" Lydia panted, lacking breath.

"We're nearly back at the tracks." Just as Stiles provide this piece of information, a hideous howl was heard from behind them. The sound of snapping branches seemed to be coming closer. Even over the noise of the blizzard that was currently brewing, there was no doubt in the duo's minds that something was fast approaching.

They broke into a run.

As did it.

Lydia clung to Stiles, slightly disorientated from the loss of blood. They ducked under the black and white, horizontal barrier dividing them from icy tracks that lay in front. A blazing light radiated from the near distance. Lydia's vision was hazy and the flecks of snow that zoomed past the beams of white cast by the headlights of the oncoming freight train resembled the static noise on an old TV.

"Shit! Lydia, move!"

"I'm stuck!" Lydia panicked.

"You've got to be kidding me!" One of her pockets had caught on a protruding nail. Stiles immediately circled back to the barrier they just passed under to help yank Lydia free, all the while he could see the maddened, yellow eyes speeding at them from among the vehement swaying of the trees. The train, too, almost on top of them. "Fuck." Stiles exhaled. Blood pumping.

The driver of the freight train had obviously seen the commotion up a head because soon its horn was sounding and a chilling screech was heard as he made a futile attempt of applying the brakes; it was too close to even make a hair's breadth of a difference. Not to mention a widely spread palm, complete with five black claws was suddenly extended out in front of the trapped teens.

By some miracle, the nylon of the body warmer gave way and the cracking rip of fabric allowed Stiles and Lydia to stumble over to the other side of the tracks. They fell ungracefully in a tangled heap, engulfed by a large, ice-covered puddle. Their coughing and spluttering subsided just in time for them to catch a splatter of red liquid that flew towards them as the once animated beast was swept away by the steal missile that speed right past them. Its bloodcurdling cry combined with harsh winds and the gush of the train passing was enough to scare the life out of anyone.

And it all faded to a hush.

Screams of both monster and engine dulled into the background and Stiles and Lydia were left there; boarder-line hypothermic; soaked to the bone, terrified.

Breathing heavily and adrenaline pumping, Lydia found Stiles' hand among the floating ice on the surface of the pool of dirty rainwater.

"Thank you." Lydia managed through chattering teeth and almost uncontrollable shivers.

"Don't mention it." Stiles panted, suddenly brought back to life. "Really, don't mention it. I think I'd rather forget." Cracking a smile, they could both breathe again. They made to get up and Stiles' gaze followed the shrinking, final car of the heavy duty vehicle until it was entirely gone.

Though out of sight, the image of the beast certainly wasn't gone from his mind.

"Lydia," Stiles spoke severely, "we learnt from Idaho that: that thing doesn't go down easy. We have no idea whether it's dead or not. We should try to find the others and get you some medical atten... Lydia?" Stiles had turned around mid-sentence but his banshee counterpart had gone.

Without thinking, Stiles sprinted straight into the denser greenery of the forest on the side of the track on which they fell.

"Lydia!" He began to call. "Fucking hell. LYDIA!" He yelled once more, straining his voice before he caught sight of strands of damp, muddy red curls. "Lydia, what the hell are you doing?"

The banshee was gazing at an almost invisible path ahead of them. Her eyes were glazed over and she was experiencing the strongest urge imaginable to follow the overgrown trail. "Stiles, we have to go this way."

"Lydia, this isn't the way we came and you need medical attention. You've lost a lot of blood and I don't even know how you're standing up right now. We should go find Scott and the others."

"What? And risk getting lost? Think about it for a second, Stiles." Her gaze bore into him. "We go back that way...this crazy weather leads us astray and subsequently we freeze to death. Look, I don't know why but somehow, I'm fine now and I just feel like we need to go this way. Stiles, something is telling me we have to go this way!" The banshee, ironically, struggled to make her voice travel over the howling wind but still Lydia persevered. Pleading with Stiles, she gestured down the gloomy pathway, trying to make him understand a feeling that she was unable to put into words.

"Is this a banshee thing that I will never understand?"

"You understand it better than most, Stiles." Lydia retaliated. They shared a familiar look of unquestionable acceptance and soon Stiles was tightly grasping Lydia's hands and she was leading him further and further into the woods.

"If we find another dead body, I swear to god, I will not be a happy chappy, Lydia." Stiles huffed.

...

Stiles and Lydia were now so cold; they felt as though they were on fire. The tips of their fingers along with their exposed faces were burning hot because of the ice cold air that was clawing at their frozen and fiercely cut cheeks. The brief hike through the woods was strenuous and long; thorns scratched them, the wind beat them and all the while they endured, simultaneously dealing with the very real possibility of being tailed by an unidentified, feral monster. Their lips were cracked and split, noses red raw; the tears that had escaped their eyes by no fault of their own were frozen, mid-motion, towards the two teens' snow-spattered hairlines. The elements were now hammering down with such a force that visibility was next to nothing and by the time the log cabin appeared in front of them, it was only a few feet ahead. They could almost reach out and touch it.

"Whoa. Where the hell did that come from?" Lydia remarked.

"Ugh...thank god." Stiles rejoiced with what little energy was left. "Who the hell cares at this point, Lydia. Come on..."

The amount of white powder that had fallen was now up to their knees, Lydia and Stiles trudged up the few short steps to the cabin's small surrounding porch, kicking off snow from their boots as they went. There was an overhanging roof, supported by a large timber frame, a never-ending log pile to their left and cumbersome wooden door to their right.

Lydia rejoined her frozen and blistering digits with Stiles' long and equally cold ones, pulling him towards the aged door with the shinning brass knocker; the howling wind was so strong it even managed to disturbed the weighty bust, an ethereally beautiful woman that appeared to be singing, adorning it.

Stiles reached out, the old timber beams creaking beneath his feet; the worn knob was even colder than he. It was a miracle that the constantly escalating blizzard had not frozen it shut but with a confident barge of a shoulder the door broke away from its frame, swinging inwards on its hinges. Lydia and Stiles could not follow fast enough, swiftly resealing the entrance. The thought that the small structure might be in use never crossed their minds as they were preoccupied with the idea of comfort and warmth, both just happy to be sheltered from the unsympathetic, insatiable weather outside. Luckily for Stiles and Lydia, the building was abandoned.

The sudden silencing of the storm was a shock to the system. The closed door had muted the sounds of the rain, snow and wind thumping down on the surprisingly sturdy cabin. Lydia and Stiles could hear their own wheezing breaths. They could hear their blood pumping in their ears. Hell, they could even hear themselves think again. This realisation and abrupt awareness of being in unfamiliar surroundings suddenly had them scrambling up, moving from where they'd sunken down in front of the door, an exhausted pile of limbs.

And throwing only a slight amount of caution to the wind, sleet, snow and now even hale, Stiles and Lydia began to do what they did best... investigate.


	3. Chapter 3

_**AN:** Thank you so much to those of you who have taken the time to read this fic and especially to those of you who have taken the time to review...I'm loving the feedback and hopefully there will be even more lovely comments after this chapter as well :) xx -A_

Chapter Three

As it turns out, there wasn't much to explore at all.

To the left was a basic kitchenette: a stove, a sink, surrounding work surfaces and a few overhead storage units. To the right: a moth-bitten sofa that had seen better days; in front of it rested a small coffee table, one of the legs had an apparent infestation of woodworm yet it still stood, defiantly, vertical on all fours. Next their eyes were drawn to the sooty, well-used log burner and yet another door that lead to an additional room.

Two large bookshelves adorned an entire corner of the sizably-challenged cabin. They were filled to the brim with old tomes, complete volumes, atlases, even books that appeared to be coming out of books and each and every text seemed older than the next. Most of what they could see was fairly regular...

"Why the hell is there a bathtub in the living room?" Stiles questioned.

"Maybe it's so that, when you get out of the tub, you're in the room where the fire is. It clearly gets pretty fucking cold out here." Lydia reasoned.

"Obviously..." Stiles stared down the bridge of his angular nose to see his breath still visible even inside the cabin.

Lydia walked toward the kitchen area, opening draws and cupboards to see what was there. She looked back at Stiles to see what he was doing. He was opening up the only other door in the room. Turns out it was just a toilet...certainly useful but not all that exciting.

"There's some canned food, utensils and stuff in some of the units but apart from that it's just cobwebs."

Stiles nodded in recognition and for a minute they both just stopped and stared at each other. Their fingers were an icy blue. Small puddles of muddy water had gathered on the floor where they both stood, still dripping wet. Lydia looked like a beautiful murder victim that had recently stepped out of an old Hitchcock...her entire front stained red and Stiles didn't appear to be fairing any better. They both still shook from the cold.

"Stiles, I think we have to go back outside and..."

"What? Lydia..."

"Look, if the weather carries on like this, we're very likely to get snowed in. We should try and get as much of that wood pile inside now before we pass out from the cold. As much as I wanna curl up and sleep and get out of these g-god-awful, fr-freezing clothes, I don't think it can wait 'til morning." Lydia spoke, ever the voice of reason, her body wracked with shivers.

"Yeah, we've gotta get warm." Stiles respectfully agreed, slipping off his rucksack, leaving it on the dusty old couch before he and Lydia once again braved the soul-crushing Canadian weather.

...

Within about twenty minutes, they had accumulated the majority of the wood and assembled it in neat stacks either side of the fireplace. During that time, already twice as much snow had fallen and Lydia and Stiles were both completely and utterly shattered.

"Ok..." She panted. "I think I'm done, I can't do it anymore, Stiles. I'm..." Rather than finishing her sentence Lydia just let out and exasperated breath and collapsed on the sofa...a cloud of ancient dust enveloping her.

"Yeah, me too." Then Lydia started laughing, in spite of how tired she was. "What could possibly be so funny, Lydia." Stiles said with frustration, hand on his hips.

"We look like shit." She grinned.

"Ah, but we are alive." Stiles smiled back.

"Only just..." Lydia sobered them both up and Stiles nodded solemnly.

"As per usual. Hey, does this place have running water?" Stiles asked as he made his way over to the sink. "I know you said you felt ok but I still think we should clean you up."

"Actually it hurts pretty badly now and I didn't check." Lydia confessed to both things, eyes closed, head resting on the back of the sofa.

The question of whether they had running water or not was soon answered when after a few seconds of the taps coughing and spluttering just air, two streams of crystal-clear water ran from each individual faucet. Stiles was able to begin washing the dirt, grim and blood from his hands when suddenly...

"Oh my god..."

"Stiles? Are you ok?" Lydia sat up in a slight panic.

"Haha. No, yeah. I'm fine." Stiles beamed. "Lydia, there's hot water."

"What?!" Her perfectly plucked eyebrows shot up. "How is that even possible?" Lydia immediately rose from where she sat to twist the extravagant taps of the free standing, roll top tub that was on the other side of the room. After a while a hot stream of soothing water began to fall. She looked up at Stiles in dismay and laughed. "Even if we weren't in the middle of nowhere, surely the water would have frozen in the pipes by now." Lydia spoke in amazement.

"Well I'm not gonna complain." Stiles said. "You should run yourself a bath, though, not too hot, you don't wanna get chilblains. Try and clean that cut so it doesn't get infected. I'm gonna start a fire because my balls are still fucking freezing and we can't risk getting sick out here. It would be a bitch if we got snowed in."

"You need one too. You're covered in about as much blood as I am." Lydia said as she began to wash the layers of dust that had built up over, who knows how much time, down the plughole.

"What? Oh um. I'll...I'll have one after, don't worry about it." Stiles said, avoiding looking at her. He was suddenly aware of the fact that she was about to have a bath...naked...with him in the room. It wasn't the fact that it was a naked woman that was making him blush; it was the fact that it was a naked Lydia. For the longest time now, Stiles has done well to mask his unrequited feeling for his banshee friend but that doesn't mean those feeling have ever stopped sneaking up on him. Stiles knew she wasn't perfect but who was? She was perfect for him. That's what counts.

"I think I saw some matches that were probably used to light the stove in one of the kitchen drawers." Lydia said as she began to strip off layers of clothing.

"What?"

"To start the fire...it's an old gas stove, there's no igniter."

"Oh, thanks."

Lydia went into the room where the toilet was and started rummaging around the storage space that was in there, her mind was on the soap that she hoped would be in there but she's struck gold when she came across towels, blankets, some old clothes and even a couple of pillows...as well as the desired soap.

"Stiles, look." She entered the room with a beaming smile and a dimple on each cheek.

"Ah, sweet." Stiles said from his kneeling position in front of the fire. He had been looking through his back pack for an old text book. When he found what he was looking for he started to tear out pages of old history assignments and econ notes that he probably should have read by now.

"Stiles, what are you doing?"

"It's for kindling."

"And you couldn't find a better source of paper than your notebook? What about your work? There are old newspapers right next to that coal bucket." Lydia pointed to a space beside him.

"Okay first of all...I did not see them, its dark in here" Stiles winced. "And second of all..."

"You just wanted to tear up those extra notes coach made you write." Lydia gave him a knowing look. She was smiling.

"And second of all..." Stiles continued smugly. "...I know for a fact that we'll probably end up using your notes when we study anyway." Lydia acknowledged this to be true and proceeded to put down the blankets and pillow she'd found in the cupboard and went to retrieve the soap to whiten the water of the rapidly filling bathtub.

...

"Hey, so how about we just dump all the dirty clothes in the bathtub after we're done with it and deal with them in the morning..."

"Sounds like a plan." Stiles agreed.

Lydia disappeared once again into the small washroom, shutting the door behind her. Stiles, meanwhile, had been in the process of splintering up one of the dryer logs with a small axe that he'd found with the wood. He arranged the pieces of kindling on top of the scrunched up balls of homework and went to retrieve the matches from one of the dusty drawers.

Once the fire was lit, for the first time, Stiles could truly see the room in which he stood. Before, it was dark and dingy but once bathed in the warm, orange glow of the flames, it became much more wholesome and inviting. Whoever had built this little cabin obviously took great pride in what they were doing. Individual beams of wood were engraved with intricate patterns, unnoticeable in the dark, however, now, the care and intimacy that went into the craftsmanship of this cabin and the carpentry especially was unbelievable.

"Wow." Stiles said to himself and for a moment he just stood there in thought but was soon interrupted but the sound of the washroom door swinging open. "Hey Lydia you have to look at this..."

Lydia Martin was beautiful even in her ugliest moments. She was currently wrapped up in a dark blue towel, her soft, pale legs, peeking out from beneath the hem; wild red hair hung loose over her dainty shoulders. Stiles understood, now, why the pre-Raphaelites had such an affinity with redheaded women...they were more often than not exceedingly striking. She carried a bundle of her dirty clothes under one arm and held up the towel with the other. Bathed in the warm, burning hue of the fire, Stiles thought she'd never looked more stunning...scratches and all.

"Umm...check out the carvings." He said, regaining composure and swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Oh my god." Lydia said, dumping the pile of clothes in a heap on the floor next to the tub; it's not like they could get any dirtier. "How did we not notice them?" She asked as she bent over to turn off the running water...the back of the towel raised up ever so slightly as she did so. The bath was now steaming and looked ever so inviting to both Lydia and Stiles.

"I know. We can look at them tomorrow if we're stuck here." Lydia tested the temperature of the water with the very tips of her fingers...dirt and grime packed tightly underneath her, usually, pristine nails.

"With the rate at which the snow's falling, I reckon we will be." Lydia said turning around to look at Stiles. There was no denying he was incredibly handsome especially stood there in the light of the slow burning flame; she could guess he didn't even know how attractive he really was. Lydia's gaze travelled from his feet, up his legs, past his stomach, strong arms and chest, broad shoulders and stubble-covered jaw to rest finally on that intense stare of his; and she suddenly realised something. Her eyebrows knitted together in concentration. "You should take off your clothes."

 _ **AN:** Good or bad place to stop? Haha! You guys tell me...hope you enjoyed this update xx please review xx -A_


	4. Chapter 4

_**AN:**_ _Happy reading everyone. I love this chapter, hope you do too! -A xx_

Chapter Four

"Stiles, you should take off your clothes."

"Huh...um Lydia, wh...what...what was that now?" Stiles did not do a very good job of hiding how perplexed he was; his bushy eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

"I'm surprised you're not hypothermic already."

"Oh, right." He understood now.

"Take them off and go get one of the blankets to sit in...seriously." Lydia insisted. "I am not okay with you dying." Stiles nodded and Lydia was not prepared for what came next.

...

Lydia Martin was no oblivious fool. She knew Stiles Stilinski was built but with him constantly being stood next to the likes of Scott, Derek or other werewolves and steroid-pumped lacrosse players, he always seemed a bit on the small side. Now though, she swallowed...wow.

Stiles began to remove his top three upper layers and shoved them in the pile among Lydia's items of clothing; he was left standing in muddy jeans and a soaking-wet t-shirt that clung to places on his upper torso that Lydia didn't even know existed. Stiles bent down to untie his hiking boots and toed them off, one foot at a time. Next he pealed of his two layers of socks and dumped them with the rest of the clothes. As he reached for the hem of his light blue t-shirt, Lydia was wildly unprepared the following two things; primarily, the sharp inhale of breath that she took after seeing the sight before her and secondly...said sight before her. Yes, Jackson was hot, Aiden's muscles were unbelievable but Stiles was...well, Stiles Stilinski was fucking sexy.

If Lydia Martin was asked to describe how she felt at this very moment, she would tell you that it was as though every particle was accelerating towards the left even though every single atom had a rightwards velocity. In other words...her world slowed down around her.

Her hooded gaze was glued to the edge of his t-shirt. It rose up his chest like the velvet drapes of a theatrical stage revealing defined abdominal muscles which were decorated with a spattering of dark hairs, forming a vertical line that led from his navel to somewhere Lydia had no business thinking of. She thought the sound of the wet fabric peeling off his mole-kissed skin resembled the 'sigh' that came from slowly tearing a fine piece of paper; it was electric, crackling like static. When Stiles' chiselled pectorals were finally revealed to her it was like the final curtain call at the end of a play: Lydia felt the need to applaud. Stiles was not ridiculously built but his brawn oozed maleness and stealth. Lydia urged to press her lips against the very centre of his sternum but of course she refrained from doing so. She willed him to wrap his sculpted, tanned arms around her but sadly that did not happen. He was oblivious to her parted lips, her lack of breath.

It was unusual for Stiles to lack perceptiveness; for the most part he would be, as a rule, wholly in tune to Lydia's every state of being but perhaps when it came down to him and her as a single combined entity ...Stiles was not so clued in, thus, his futile history with the ignorant werecoyote was in existence.

Lydia's staggered heartbeat and flushed cheeks only returned to normal once Stiles, goofy, overdramatic, brave, sexy Stiles had gone into the toilet to change out of the remnants of his soggy attire. After he'd shut the door behind him, Lydia decided to yell at him to gain some speck of normalcy. She enjoyed existing in realities where she was in control of he own emotions. It was reassuring.

"If we get snowed in, there will be nowhere for me to bury your body! So please, for the love of fuck, warm up!" She barked out a laugh and with a long-overdue sigh, dropped the towel, sinking into the warm, opaque, milky water.

"I'm touched by your concern Lydia Martin!" Stiles yelled back through the door, also laughing and their world was normal once more.

...

Stiles re-entered the living space feeling much more comfortable now that he'd taken off the bloody and filthy clothes; he hated that the number of times he'd been covered in Lydia's blood was anything higher than zero. At least he could say he'd started to remember what it was like to feel warm again. He strode past the tub to place his 'laundry' in the growing pile; Lydia was breathing deeply, eyes closed, humming an unrecognisable tune. Her body was hidden from Stiles' sight by the white, soapy waters but he was able to see two, tantalising knees breaking the surface, surrounded by suds. Lydia's porcelain shoulders and kissable neck were exposed to him too. At some point she had obviously sunken down, below the water to wash her hair and it was now plastered to her head and sides of the bath. She was baked in an orange glow; she had never appeared more undone to him, it was exhilarating.

"Comfy there, Ariel?" He smiled. Where his ability to talk to Lydia, whilst both he and she were technically naked, came from he'll never know.

"Mmmhmm." She moaned...too comfy to care.

"Seriously you look like a mermaid." Lydia smiled sweetly in acknowledgement after this remark. "Did you want a Reese's Piece?" Stiles grinned. At this Lydia's eye shot open and she gasped at the thought of peanut butter cups, she wasn't prepared to see Stiles standing over the tub, gazing at her intensely like that but right now she was too preoccupied with the thought of food to even contemplate the pleasant tingling sensation she felt in the pit of her stomach because of the sight of his prominent collar bones peeking out of the woollen blanket.

"Do you even have to ask?" She grinned, sitting up slightly. Stiles moved to find his rucksack on the floor where he'd left it before he could see too much of Lydia.

"I think I've probably got some somewhere."

"Stiles Stilinski, do not ever, ever, get a girl's hope up with the promise of chocolate and then fail to follow through!" Lydia scalded him but Stiles just laughed. Though he struggled to manoeuvre his way around his bag whilst simultaneously clinging onto the warm blanket that hung loosely around his lean frame, Stiles eventually revealed a wrapper with bright yellow calligraphy.

"You got lucky." Lydia jested, but smiled when Stiles approached her to sit down in front of the tub. He opened the packet and handed her a Reese's, then extended his legs outwards towards the fire so that he could warm up his unpleasantly cold feet.

"Thank you, Stiles." Lydia said, sincerely and quickly ran a wet hand through his unruly mop of hair that was rested on the edge of the tub, just beside her.

"You're welcome, Lydia." Stiles smiled looking back at the redheaded siren that bathed in the waters behind him. For the first time that night he released a breath that wasn't due to running for his life or from relief over the fact that he'd marginally escaped with his life. Stiles felt safe and comfortable, it was as simple as that.

For a while they were just silent, swirls of steam continued to roll off of the surface of the bathwater and up into the low hanging beams of the ceiling.

"I checked my phone earlier." Lydia said, making conversation. "There's no reception out here."

"Mine's dead anyways." Stiles replied. "How's your cut? Does it still hurt?"

"A little." Lydia admitted.

"Have you actually tried to clean it?" Stiles asked her but when he received no answer he turned around to look at her. "Well?" Lydia winced, looking slightly guilty.

"What? It's so gross!" Stiles sighed, exasperated and rolled his eyes. "I'm in the tub, aren't I?"

"Lydia there could be bits of shit in it that will get it infected!" Stiles was pissed. "I will not have you getting sick. Sit up."

"Why?" Lydia was confused.

"I'm going to take a look..."

"Seriously?!" Lydia deadpanned. "Stiles, I'm in the bath..."

"And? It's not like half of Beacon Hills hasn't seen you naked before Lydia; this time it actually counts for something!" Stiles yelled, Lydia's eyes glazed over and he immediately regretted raising his voice. She sank further down into the water, her nose just above the surface. "Ssaahh god. Lydia I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it, I just meant the whole fugue state thing...Lyd..."

"Stiles, it's ok." She whispered.

"It's just we barely escaped with our lives tonight after fleeing from a fuck-off big monster, it would be kind of stupid if you died because we let a little cut get infected, you know?" Silence. "Lydia look at me, I'm sorry..." Stiles reached round, his hand disappeared underneath the water to hold onto hers. His thumb slowly rubbed soothing circles over her pulse point on her wrist and though perhaps they have only just started to become aware of how they affect one another, there will always be moments like this between these two: when they subconsciously forget about social convention and put aside all bashfulness for the sole purpose of comforting the other half of their own tether.

"Stiles," Lydia made watery eye contact this time. "Really, it's ok. I promise." She squeezed his hand to let him know that she was ok and she did so with the upmost sincerity. "You can look at my cut..."

"I'll get my flashlight." Stiles removed himself from the side of the bath to rummage through his rucksack once more.

"For the record," Lydia made her voice travel across the room. "I don't care whether people...or you...or anyone sees me naked or not." Lydia said, Stiles looked up from his bag to seek out her eyes in the low level light.

"Oh?"

Lydia shook her head slightly; her chin was rested on her folded arms that were placed on the edge of the tub, she was facing Stiles. "No."

"Then why..." Stiles trailed off.

"Why did I turn into a total girl...why did I get upset?" Lydia voiced his thoughts. Stiles clenched his jaw and nodded in confirmation. "I dunno Stiles. I'm not the helpless, insecure damsel in distress that I used to be but with the whole banshee thing, maybe I got upset because I wish I'd at least had a choice over who got to see my tits or not." Stiles nodded.

"And...before the whole banshee thing?" Stiles swallowed and asked hesitantly, he didn't really wish to know anymore about Lydia's former conquests than what was strictly necessary but he felt as though she had something she need to get off of her chest; he pressed the issue. There was a swelling silence that consumed the cosy room until Lydia spoke again, ever so quietly.

"Maybe...maybe I got upset over that because when I did have a choice over who got to see me before the whole banshee thing...well, I didn't choose very wisely, did I?" Lydia confided in Stiles. Stiles thought she had finished but before he could say anything, she whisper one last thing:

"And maybe...maybe I'm upset with myself because maybe I care about what you think."

...

 _ **AN:**_ _Hey all! Hope you all enjoyed that, I know I'm super proud of this chapter but feel free to tell me otherwise. Please do review and thanks to all of you who already have and those who have favourited and followed this story. -A xx_


	5. Chapter 5

_**AN:**_ _Happy reading! x_

...

Chapter Five

Stiles was flabbergasted.

"You care about what I think? About what I think about y..." He said shocked, eyebrows scrunched and made his way over to the tub yet again, this time with a flashlight and a small first aid kit.

"Lydia, you shouldn't care what anyone thinks." Stiles couldn't believe the self doubt that was currently oozing out of one of the fiercest women he knew. "Oh my god, Lydia..." Stiles knelt down beside her. All she saw was his silhouette and an orange halo cast by the slowly charring logs behind. "Lydia, I have never tried to hide my hatred for Jackson...I thought he was an asshole that treated you like shit, but you loved him and you couldn't help that. Aiden...yeah that was pretty dumb, but there's no denying, that guy's ass...whooh! Man...if I were gay..." Stiles smirked after he couldn't maintain his suggestive expression any longer and Lydia was now laughing through shinning eyes.

"You're such a dork." Lydia sniffed and smiled up at him, brushing away stray tears.

"I know." Stiles said. "Lydia, I know this probably won't be the last time you experience self doubt, it's a part of being human...but never again, do I want you to have doubts about how highly I regard you. You are wicked smart, frickin' beautiful and a total badass. D'you hear me?" Stiles finished after tapping out each compliment on the edge of the bath frame with a long index finger.

Lydia just stared at him for a moment.

"If it weren't for you, I'd probably still be pretending to a dumbass...I don't think I've ever actually thanked you for that before, so thank you Stiles Stilinski."

"Yeah that whole act, especially for a certified genius, was pretty fucking stupid Martin." They shared a smile.

"I couldn't be myself around Jackson...that alone should have told me that he wasn't the one." Lydia smiled. "I'm glad I can be myself around you..." Unspoken words hung in the air and Lydia looked, directly up at his big brown eyes. "Thank you, in all honesty, for being ok with the fact that I find dead bodies and know more elements on the periodic table than you do." She beamed.

"You can thank me properly by letting me clean the cut." Stiles said as he unzipped the small med kit.

"That's a shoddy thank you gift..." Lydia shuffled closer to Stiles, splashing the water against the sides of the tub.

"I dunno...me getting to wipe your naked body...while you sit in the bath...in the light of the fire..." Stiles flirted. "That doesn't seem too bad to me." He grinned, wetting a piece of cotton with some antiseptic.

"Down boy." She grinned and Stiles barked out a laugh. They talked to each other in this manner more often now. They both felt it was good that they could do 'this', flirt without feeling guilty...without it never having to mean anything more per say but for both Lydia and Stiles, they enjoyed the parameters of this more playful, adult bickering relationship that was a welcome escape from all the horrors of the supernatural world that they existed in.

"Lyd, will you hold this up." Stiles asked as he handed over the flashlight. Lydia flicked it on and angled the light towards the twelve inch scratch that ran from beneath her right collar bone to just above her left breast, both of which were still hidden by the soapy waters.

"How about, as a thank you, in addition to you preventing me from getting gangrene..." Lydia started and Stiles began to pick out bits of dirt and grime with some metal tweezers.

"I'm listening..." His lips quirked to the side: a shadow of a smile.

"I get out of the tub soon and make the bed, that way you can clean up before all the hot water goes..."

"Lydia, did your banshee psyche enable you to find a hidden room that I am somehow unaware of?" Stiles finished getting out most of the visible dirt from Lydia's cut and looked at her confused. "What bed?"

"I'm pretty sure that that sofa's a pullout."

"How could you possibly know that?" Stiles accused as he began to delicately pat Lydia's chest with the fumy smelling cotton.

"Yeeeeah that doesn't hurt like the stiiiiiinggg of a thousand bees!" Lydia hissed in pain.

"Sorry, try to stay still, ok." Lydia nodded. "So this supposed sofa bed? How d'you figure that one?" Stiles asked.

"There are fairly prominent scrape marks on the floor where the coffee table has constantly been reposition to sit against that back wall... there's no trap door beneath were it sits now and there's nothing on the far wall that would warrant you needing something to stand on so...it's a wild shot in the dark but...Stiles?" Lydia looked at Stiles, with concern, his mouth was open and his jaw hung fairly slack. "You, ok there?" Lydia laughed nervously.

"How..." He sighed and slowly started to smile. "Lydia, that's incredible...you're incredible." He was in awe of the girl that sat before him. "Sherlock Holmes' has got nothing on you."

"What! Did Stiles Stilinski just favour Lydia Martin over Benedict Cumberbatch?!" Lydia gasped, mockingly; it was followed by a delightful laugh.

"Are you kidding? I may be the biggest Cumberbitch in the vicinity of Beacon Hills but I'd pick banshee over high-functioning sociopath any day." Stiles smiled now bandaging up the wound. A blush rose on Lydia's cheeks and spread down her neck and across her newly bandaged chest.

"I cannot believe you just said 'Cumberbitch' with a straight face?!" She laughed.

"Are you telling me you wouldn't marry 221B Baker Street's most intelligent British bachelor if you got the chance?!"

"Oh totally...I'd marry that fictional character in a heartbeat but that wasn't the point ..." She sniggered.

...

Stiles now sat in the tub with the left tap running just to get the temperature of the water back up to hot, rather than just warm. Though the fire had made a significant difference to the small cabin, the rattling of the trees and the wind outside was a constant reminder of how cold it potentially could get; this reason alone was enough for Stiles and Lydia to shiver.

"Tah-dah!" Lydia was now wearing an old pair of sweats, an overly-large, light blue t-shirt with a pair of fluffy socks. There was a smattering of moth-made holes across the shoulder of the top and the men's trousers were far too big for Lydia's small frame but at least she was semi-warm and could make the bed without having to try and hold up a blanket. She had piled her wet hair on top of her head in a messy bun with a band from around her wrist. Stiles though she looked adorable.

"Well that's a delightful surprise. We actually have a bed to sleep on." Stiles smiled lazily up at her from his laidback position in the roll top tub; his arms hung over the edges and his feet were elevated on the other side of the rim, crossed over one another. The banshee had pushed the coffee table up against the back wall like so many had clearly done before and flung the cushions off the couch to reveal a folded up mattress.

"I saw some sheets in the cupboards in the washroom." Lydia said walking over to said destination before quickly re-entering the room with a neat pile of fairly decent bed linen. "How is it still so cold in here?" Lydia muttered to herself.

"You should stoke the fire, chuck another log on maybe." Stiles suggested and Lydia did so before resuming her task of making up the ratty sofa-bed.

"Hey, are you hungry?" Lydia queried as she began stuffing an old pillow into a faded cotton case that had seen better days.

"Starving."

"I am too. I could make something?" Lydia suggested. "I think one of the cans said vegetable soup..."

"Is that a good idea?" Despite Stiles' ravenous stomach, he was wary of how much food they actually had to go on if they were to actually get stuck here for whatever reason.

"I don't think we'll run out any time soon but we've both had an exhausting night and we need to eat either way. Look, we're both making sure we don't turn hypothermic and you gave me shit about my cut getting infected...you'd think mal nutrition and lack of energy would be up there with the essentials. I'll get out all the food and we can ration it tomorrow if we're snowed in but in the mean time I don't think a can of soup each tonight will make much difference to whether we starve or not." Lydia reasoned logically. Stiles has always embraced logic.

"You're the genius." Stiles conceded, sinking down into the tub.

"That I am." Lydia smiled.

"Can you actually cook?" Stiles accidentally voiced out loud.

"It's soup, Stiles...I can heat up soup." Lydia huffed.

...

 _ **AN:**_ _So guys, I hope you liked it! Please please please review some more, even if it's a single word, it would really make my day! Pretty please, lots of love xx -A xx_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Lydia, it turns out, was not a total disaster in the kitchen.

Yes, it was only tinned soup but Stiles honestly thought she had only ever stepped foot in a kitchen to set up punch bowls for her renowned 'Lydia Martin parties'.

"I honestly thought you'd burn it." Stiles confessed with a smile. They currently sat cross-legged on the old bed, dressed in the leftover clothes and swaddled in a woollen blanket each; the fire was still burning strong, their dirty clothes sat soaking in the now murky bath water and a bowl of steaming vegetable soup rested in both Stiles and Lydia's laps. It wasn't amazing but it did the job.

"It doesn't take a genius to heat something up, Stiles." Lydia smiled, not offended in the slightest. "Actually, if we're being honest...I'm surprised I didn't burn it either or scald myself actually but I'd guess 'cooking', if you can call heating up soup that, would be just like chemistry if I ever actually gave it a proper go." Lydia shrugged.

"I knew it...I fucking knew it." Stiles grinned smugly, taking down another spoonful of hot soup that warmed his insides. "Holy shit, have I actually found an activity that Lydia Martin does not excel at?"

"Oh and I suppose you're a Michelin worthy chef are you?" Lydia fired back.

"I dunno about that but I can make a mean beef casserole." Stiles admitted.

"You can cook?" Lydia was shocked.

"Urh yeah." Stiles said, as if it were nothing...devouring more of his food.

"But you're like...a guy..." Lydia blanched, jaw slack, soup forgotten. "...in high-school."

"I thought you were a feminist Lyd?" Stiles laughed. "Guys can cook."

"Yeah, like, adult males."

"Not true."

"Well, can Scott cook?"

"Ha! Fuck no. Scott burns toast." Stiles smiled.

"Can Isaac?"

"Doubtful...I don't think that moron knows how to do much of anything." Stiles said as he thought about his strained relationship with the gangly beta.

"Can you name any guy we go to high school with that can actually cook?"

"..."

"Point proved. How the hell do you know how to cook, Stiles?" Lydia was smiling now. "Go on, what's your secret, Stilinski? Are you secretly a suburban housewife?" She laughed. "Aiden wasn't even technically supposed to be in high-school anymore and I don't think even he knew how to cook..."

"Honestly?"

"No, lie to me. Yes, honestly you moron. You're one of my best friends...how do I not know this about you? I know it's totally cliché but it's a very appealing quality in a guy Stiles, how do you not use this on girls more often?" Lydia asked, sweetly, naively, dimples showing.

"Well, honestly," Stiles said soberly, placing his now empty bowl adjacent to himself and turned away from the heat of the flames to face the banshee.

Lydia could tell the conversation had suddenly shifted from playful to sober.

"When my mom died, my dad and I basically lived off of junk food for a good while...sometimes Scott's mom would bring us food or we'd eat over at their place but for a majority of the time, my diet consisted of crap. Anyway, one night, my dad had a late shift at the station.

When he was working these sorts of hours I'd usually wake up at around 3am to him coming through the front door; I'd hear him walk up the stairs, kick his shoes off and eventually collapse on his bed. I'd just go back to sleep after that. I was used to it." Stiles paused for a moment to take a breath.

They were still working out the kinks in their tether...trying to get to grips with the whole anchor thing...what it meant for their relationship. Lydia has never known what it is nor tried to question that that possesses her to do the things she does in these sorts of situations involving Stiles but nevertheless she repositioned herself to sit across from her friend, mirroring the way he sat and reached out to take his hand. "This particular night, he didn't come home...I woke up and it was 6am. It was only me at the house and I was about to call him when Melissa came up to the door and I knew something was wrong...he'd gone to answer a routine domestic, a fucking noise complaint, Lydia. Turns out, things had escalated between the time the station had received the call and the time my dad got there." Stiles' voice broke a little but Lydia squeezed his hand, rubbing his pulse point just as he had done for her earlier.

"A husband and a wife had been arguing and the guy had been swinging a kitchen knife around by the time my dad got there...I think he'd been...hitting...his wife...or something, with the way my dad talked about the situation, I could tell he was pissed off...it wasn't the best neighbourhood and when my dad tried to calm the guy down, to try and intervene he stabbed him...right in the gut." Stiles revealed. "Obviously he's ok...but man, at the time...it was only a year or so after we lost mom and I, honest to god, thought I was gonna...I thought I was going to lose him too." Lydia didn't feel the need to say anything, allowing Stiles to continue in his own time.

"I couldn't deal with the idea of that. I was still wearing my Knicks pyjamas when Melissa took me to the hospital, she told me that he was going to be ok but right there and then, when I saw him lying there, still out cold from the surgery...I decided I had to do something to make him be ok, to make him live longer, to just...to just stay with me." It was then that Stiles looked up from their joined hands that rested in his lap to Lydia's tearful gaze that echoed his own. "Mom used to do all the cooking and she was really good as well. We had all her old cook books and home recipes and I decide to learn how to do it...I thought if we stopped eating microwave meals and having take out then he wouldn't get hurt again...obviously that's ridiculous, when you work in law enforcement, a healthy diet won't stop you from getting hit by a bullet or anything but at the time I was young...like eleven or something...it was just a way to cope." Stiles shook his head, noncommittally, regaining composure.

"As I got older, I sort of actually got good at it." Stiles laughed a half-laugh. "I enjoyed reading her notes in the cook books and it was like she was there, even after she left...looking after us and it just became routine...my dad would come home late from work and I would have left him his supper on the stove or something so I guess in a way I am sort of like a suburban housewife...as per usual Lydia Martin hits the proverbial nail right on the head." Stiles grinned through watery eyes and Lydia couldn't help but let out a sorrowful laugh. Even in moments like this, when Stiles was baring his soul to her, he could still manage to make her smile. Lydia rose up to her knees from her seated position on the bed and wrapped her arms around Stiles' shoulders so that she could hug him. She needed it as much as Stiles did at that moment.

"You'll have to teach me sometime because I can't cook for shit." Lydia sniffed.

"I promise." Stiles smiled, returning her embrace with full force.

...

They had cleared away their dirty dishes from earlier and both Lydia and Stiles were now struggling to fight off sleep, suppressing multiple yawns.

"I can't stay awake any longer, Stiles." Lydia said and began to crawl up to bed to peel back the covers. Stiles nodded and rose from where he sat...walking away from her. "Where are you going?" Lydia sat up at the head of the bed.

"I'm just topping up the fire so that it doesn't go out too quickly in the night." Stiles answered and grabbed a few logs from the pile. Once he'd dealt with what was currently their only form of central heating, Stiles, slowly made his way over to Lydia and climbed into bed next to her with a tired sigh.

Though still dressed in sweats and t-shirts it was still cool beneath the covers and so they had laid out their blankets on top of the duvet to provide some form of extra warmth.

"I don't care what you say Stilinski, it's still cold so we're spooning." Lydia decided for them both and before Stiles could even pretend to protest Lydia had grabbed his hand to drape across her waist and covered the both of them with multiple layers of bedding.

There was hardly ever any arguing with Lydia Martin and Stiles was too cold and tired to even think or give a damn about what this could mean for their 'friendship' so he didn't even bother to object. Rather, he curled his free arm beneath Lydia's head to act as a pillow, pulled her back even flusher against his front and hooked one of his legs between her own. "Ok." He finally said and as he exhaled, his hot breath tickled the small hairs on the back of Lydia's neck, soothing her even further.

"Stiles?" Lydia asked, checking to see if he was still awake.

"Mmhmm." He hummed, half asleep already, eyes still closed.

"Do you reckon they're ok?" Stiles knew she was talking about the rest of the pack.

"If I know Scott, and we both know I do...then they're ok."

"I agree...plus that freight train did a number on the beast."

"Tru dat. They're all safe." Stiles reaffirmed.

"Hey, Stiles...do you feel safe here?" Lydia was curious.

"Incredibly so." Stiles answered, holding her tighter, a bit more lucid. "Do you?"

"Yeah..." Lydia said. "I think that's what this is; you know...a safe haven...for banshees that is."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I just have a feeling but we can talk about it tomorrow...goodnight, Stiles."

"G'night, Lydia." Stiles mumbled, on the verge of dreams.

After never having felt more content nor more protected in the entirety of their being, both the banshee and the human allowed their eyelids to fall and subsequently, the couple drifted off into an instantaneous, long-overdue and profoundly restful slumber.

...

 _ **AN:**_ _Hi All, sorry it's been a slightly longer wait for this chapter but I'm currently in the midst of my first week of Freshers at Uni. HA! Be warned the next few chapter may come at a significantly slower pace but hopefully the quality will not dip! :) xx Hope you enjoyed this and if so drop us a review...pwetty pwease xx -A xx_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

...

As Stiles blinked himself awake he slowly began to remember where he was. Rays of warm sun spilled through the window of the small cabin and yet somehow it still seemed to appear so very dark inside. Still in the haze of sleep, he watched as flecks of dust slowly but surely drifted further and further away from the creaking timber above and somewhere in the middle of his morning daze, Stiles became aware of the gentle weight pressed against the length of his body.

When a warm stream of air began to tickle his Adam's apple Stiles tilted his head to the right and his lips lightly grazed the soft skin of Lydia's forehead. Some way through the night the two sleeping teens had repositioned themselves so that Lydia was comfortably curled into Stiles' side; one of her legs had draped itself across the lower part of her friend's abdomen and her head was at present resting on his shoulder; her almost invisibly freckled nose tickled the skin at the crook of his neck.

"Lydia?" His voice was hoarse from hours without use.

"Mmm..." She grumbled still under the veil of sleep and as she did so her body constricted for a moment, curling in on itself. Lydia snuggled tighter into the warmth of the body that lay adjacent and her leg that was throw across him was dragged up his firm stomach before relaxing again. When her muscles slackened, Stiles could only bask in the small amount of euphoria he experience as her calf returned to where it once was...her cold toes traced one of the lines of the 'v' in his hips and made their way down to rest in between his knees, curling and stretching all the way. The brief stroke to his lap that Lydia had unknowingly given him combined with the feel of her breast upon his chest and the apex of her thighs pressed firmly against his hipbone was enough to coerce Stiles into shakily inhaling a mouthful of musky cabin air.

"Lydia?" He said again on an exhale.

"Lydia?" This time, with his arm that was not currently pinned down by the weight of Lydia's body, he tenderly rubbed the back of her hand that lay beautifully on his sternum.

"Mmm...I'm awake." She grumbled sleepily. Her hand removed itself from Stiles' grasp to remove some of the sleep residue at the corner of her eyes.

"Sorry...I've gotta piss." Stiles smiled down at the drowsy redhead. She looked stunning in the morning too apparently.

"Good morning to you to Stilinski..." She smiled, eyes still closed and Stiles chuckled as he began to unwillingly detangle himself from Lydia's clutches. "Mmm...no...it's cold." Lydia moaned.

"Well unless you want the warmth of my pee against you Martin you're gonna have to relent." Stiles mock threatened.

"Fine." She caved, unwinding her fingers from where she'd scrunched up the front of Stiles' worn out t-shirt and buried her head among the pillows.

...

After a few gentle nudges from Stiles, Lydia eventually stirred from her well needed rest.

After a good many hours of sleep the two teens felt rejuvenated. They did ache, but more in a good way rather than anything else.

In the few minutes that Lydia had dragged herself to the toilet and was wondering around freshening up, making the bed, Stiles had discovered why it was still so very dark inside the cabin.

"Ah, crap..." He sighed.

"Stiles?" Lydia questioned but his only reply was a half-arsed gesture toward the window that he was currently standing at...he whipped back the dust-ridden curtain to reveal a white canvas.

The snow had vigorously continued on throughout the night and thought there were a good few inches at the top of the window frames where the wintery world outside was still visible...there were, as predicted, complete snowed in.

"For fuck's sake...this weather is relentless!" Lydia screeched and stomped back to where she'd just been about to fold back in the sofa bed, taking her frustrations out on the undeserving futon.

"We're completely buried." Stiles said in shock. Neither of them imagined the snow would be this extreme. "Now what?" He said, looking back at Lydia who was now sitting on what appeared to be an ordinary couch.

"What can we do? There's no getting out of this until the snow melts."

They both mulled over their own thoughts in silence for a few moments, Lydia sat half defeated on the couch, Stiles, his hands on his hips, stared blankly out at the vast whiteness.

"Are you cold?" He said all of a sudden, turning back to the heart of the cabin. Lydia blinked a few times before nodding at Stiles. "I'll relight the fire."

"I'll see how much food we have. Start working out how we're gonna ration it." She stated solemnly.

...

With the fire now ablaze and the room much brighter, Stiles and Lydia stared regrettably down at their sad excuse for a food pile. Three vegetable stock cubes, two cans of tomato soup and a half opened pack of stale crackers sat in the centre of the faded coffee table mocking them both.

"That's all I could find..."

"You looked absolutely everywhere?" Stiles pressed.

"Trust me, Stiles, when I say I was certifiably thorough. I searched every scrap of that ratty old kitchen and this here, is every crumb. They're completely empty."

"And how long d'you reckon until all that snow out there turns to mush?" Stiles gestured towards the window, their eyes never leaving the miniscule piles of goods in front.

This question was a distraction Lydia was all too happy to indulge in.

"Well, I think it will melt around the cabin fairly quickly but there must be at least ten feet of snow out there. It could take a few days but more likely it'll be a few weeks before we see green again and god knows how far we'd have to walk to get to the road." Stiles exhaled loudly. "All considering it doesn't even snow again...we might catch a break if it rains...or if Alberta has a freak summer...or the Tooth Fairy comes and whizzes the both of us away! Either way...this food...it's not gonna last us half our time spent here with all of Scott McCall's god damn luck!" Lydia finally huffed.

No one spoke for a good few moments.

"Speaking of Scott, all the snow has probably cleared all trace of our hike through the woods. Even with my stink, Scott would have a hard time tracking us even if the snow were to melt." Lydia nodded in agreement...

But never ones to give up, Lydia and Stiles after a short while Lydia and Stiles snapped back to being focused. When in crisis...they always survive.

"Ok!" Stiles jumped up from his position on the couch and made for his back pack and started pulling out a notepad.

"We have to work out our options." Lydia voiced their shared thoughts aloud as Stiles took up residence in the space beside her once again.

"Number one...what's number one?" Stiles queried.

"Number one...we wait." Stiles wrote it down.

"Agreed. Either Scott finds us or the snow melts and we try and find him." Stiles stated.

"Number two...we could try and dig our way out?" Lydia suggested. "It could be better than waiting to starve to death but it could also be futile." Stiles made note of everything she was saying. "We might get ill. We'd burn more energy than food we have to fuel the digging and it might snow all over again any way."

"But it's better than doing nothing right?" Stiles asked.

"Not necessarily." Lydia said now looking at him. "I mean this would be a whole different scenario if we had no access to clean water and warmth but Stiles, we have both those things. Honestly, the only reason I can see for digging our way out would be if there was some way we could get more food but we're in the middle of nowhere and even if you had the Sherriff's gun, it's not like you could shoot any rabbit or game in this weather. Think about it."

"I think...that I'm flattered you'd think the reason I wouldn't be able to shoot anything is because of the bad weather and not my atrocious aim." Stiles smiled as did Lydia. They brainstormed for a further four minutes and twenty-seven seconds before sinking back into the cushion on the sofa, staring down and the now filled pages of Stiles' workbook.

"I hate to say it Stilinski but it looks as though you're gonna have to sit and do jackal for the first time in your life. How long d'you think before you're Ritalin filled ass is bouncing off the walls?" Lydia grinned despite everything.

"I guess you're just gonna have to entertain me." The sides of Stiles' smile twitched gamely.

"Out of all the people I could be stuck with in an abandoned cabin, with no food, in the middle of nowhere...I had to get the neurotic pessimist with ADD didn't I?" They laughed. "I'll tell you this Stiles, I could do much worse." Lydia smiled and lightened punched his bicep in jest.

"That's one of the nicest things you've ever said to me." He smiled; teeth and all. "Though I will apologise in advance...you know us Stilinski men, when hungry we tend to bite. Pun intended. It's gonna get ugly with no food."

"Don't worry about me...I know how to handle you when you PMS whether that's because one of your wonderfully mad plans has failed to work or because you're hungry." Lydia laughed as she leaned her head down on Stiles' shoulder.

"You think my mad plans are wonderful?" He asked with childlike awe.

"Of course...I help execute most of them and aid in the preparation of pretty much all of them and Lydia Martin, future Fields Medal winner, would never sully her good name by being involved in any crazy plan that is anything less than wonderfully mad. And you are Stiles...wonderfully mad but it's ok...so am I." Snuggled against him and as she finished her impromptu adoration of everything that is Stiles Stilinski, he felt a warmth envelope him that had nothing to do with the burning coals and timber in front and everything to do with, what Stiles believe, to be his faultless redheaded counterpart.

...

 _ **AN:**_ _Just to warn you all I might be going on a short hiatus because I've just started university and it's all very overwhelming and frantic but I'll do my best. I'm so glad this story is being received so well. Keep reviewing all the chapters my lovelies...tell me what you want to happen! x -A x_


	8. Chapter 8

_**AN:**_ _Okay. It is ridiculous how much I giggled at the end of this chapter whilst writing it...I don't know how it happened or what even really happened...this chapter wasn't initially supposed to unfold like this at the end but clearly it just sort of did and I found it rather cute to be honest. No kiss yet but I think you'll all like this one. Review and tell me what you think. I somehow started writing a romcom, lord knows how that happened! xxx –A_

...

Chapter Eight

...

"So, now what do we do?" Stiles was already becoming annoyingly agitated, bouncing on the balls of hits feet, wearing down the floor boards with all his pacing.

Lydia knew just what to do.

"We have a case!" Lydia huffed as if it were obvious.

"A case?" Stiles went blank.

"Indeed Stilinski." Lydia said as she stood up and went to rummage through Stiles' backpack pulling out an unused note pad, blue tack and pens. Stiles just stared on confused, unsure whether to interrupt.

Lydia tore a few pages out of the neglected notebook and stuck them up in a row on the largest expanse of unoccupied cabin wall she could find. She wrote across them in large cursive script: _The Case of the Curious Cabin_.

Stiles always became focused and eerily calm whenever scribbling all over his transparent board in his bedroom with a grease pencil. All Lydia had to do was turn around and grin before Stiles strode over to her snatching up a pen.

"Do you wanna be Holmes or do you wanna be Watson?" He said.

...

They started their 'investigation' with the most obvious source of information that might reveal some of the cabin's history; having ploughed through the many, many books that had been building up dust for god knows how many years, Lydia and Stiles had discovered...well, absolutely nothing quite frankly but they remained resolute and determined.

"Ok, it's four hours in and I think we deserve a break. I need the bathroom." Lydia said decidedly, jumping up. A small dust cloud formed in the air when she put her heavy book down beside her on the old couch. "Ah shit..." She paused on her way to the toilet.

"What?" Stiles head shot up from among the yellow-stained pages of an old encyclopaedia.

"We forgot to drain the tub." Lydia sighed.

"Oh, I'll do it...you go to the bathroom." Stiles offered, making to stand. Lydia nodded in thanks and made her way to the washroom. When she came back out into the main living area expecting to see Stiles bent over the bathtub ringing out their wet clothes, Lydia was no doubt surprised as she immerged to find him, as still as a statue, staring peculiarly into a random kitchen cupboard. Lydia couldn't see inside but their meagre rations were now just a cluttered pile of stuff at his feet. _Had he dropped them?_

"Stiles...what..." One of his hands hung loose by his side, the other still clung to the small handle of the cabinet in what appeared to be shock.

"Lydia you gotta see this..." He breathed barely managing to move a muscle.

Slowly, step by step, Lydia warily made her way over to the small kitchenette and stood shocked, a few paces behind Stiles' line of sight.

"Oh my god."

"I know."

"Oh my god!"

"I know!" Stiles yelled aggressively turning to face her.

Lydia's eyes had not left the, now filled to the brim, kitchen cabinet.

Baking supplies.

Non-perishables.

Oils, vinaigrettes, you name it!

"Am I going insane Lydia?"

"Well if you are I am!" She yelled back before ripping open the remaining cabinet doors.

"Oh my god Stiles, there's fruit and vegetables in here!"

"What?!" Stiles ran to look for himself but before he could Lydia ran towards him and pinched his forearm with a remarkable amount of strength for such a tiny girl.

"OW! What the hell did you do that for?!" Stiles yelled. She then proceeded to slap him hard across the face.

"Ahhhh! For fuck's sake Lydia! I am awake ok...this is not a dream!" Stiles hollered, catching on and seeing her distressed state...pinched her on the arm as hard as he could.

"Ow! Stiles you bastard!" She screamed rubbing the pain away from her arm vigorously. "Thank you!" She huffed.

"You're welcome!" The panicked yelling and physical abuse finally seemed to come to an end after that and soon the inevitable pregnant pause seemed to follow.

Neither of them could say anything for a good long while.

...

Stiles Stilinski had never gone so long without talking. He and Lydia sat on the floor of the shabby kitchen area...staring into space.

"I thought this kind of shit only happens in Harry-fucking-Potter!" Lydia jumped at his sudden outburst that left both of them panting.

...

Lydia spoke again after a few more moments.

"I'm sorry I slapped you in the face."

"Yeah, me too." Stiles answered.

Conversation carried on trickling into the silence like this until slowly but surely the amount of time between either of them talking was so little that they actually began to talk like normal people again.

...

"Stiles, what actually happened?" Lydia: the ever sensible one.

He sighed, leaning his head back against an old wooden panel before explaining.

"I went to drain the t...ah shit." Before he continued Stiles went over to the bath and pulled out the plug from beneath the murky waters and once satisfied with the gurgling noise of the drain, made his way back to sit down next to Lydia's left side.

"As I was saying, I went to drain the tub," He began again. "and then I realised how friggin' starving I was and the food on the table was shamefully mocking me and my empty stomach so I was trying to put it back in the cabinet. Out of sight, out of mind, you know?" Lydia nodded. "And well, when I opened the cabinet...there was no room for me to put the shitty stale crackers anyway!" Stiles finally huffed. "Like what the fuck is happening right now? Lydia I think my head is gonna explode, I'm not even kidding."

"We've got to put this on the board." Lydia jumped up and though she felt slightly ridiculous doing so scribbled down 'magical, food-regenerating kitchen cupboards' on a piece of paper and pinned it to their pathetically empty mood board. It was a start at least.

...

A series of neon post-it notes from Stiles' never-ending, Mary Poppins-like backpack had now accumulated around Lydia's new addition to the wall. They read things like:

How did the food get there?

When did the food get there?

But the big question laying on Stiles' and Lydia's mind at this very minute was:

Can we eat it?

...

"I'm just gonna put something out there Stiles and call me crazy but I think there's only one way to find out?"

"What?" He asked and Lydia pointed to a very high-priority, orange post-it just beside her.

"I think we actually have to try and eat the food in order to know if it's safe and edible." He looked at the freckled girl as though she had just spent the past ten years of her life locked up in Eichen.

"No offence Lydia but...are you crazy? What if it's poisoned or some kind of Alice in Wonderland shit happens to us because we so stupidly ate the cake that said eat me?! You actually want to eat the suspicious food that somehow made its way through the raging snowstorm outside, got through that solid door of ancient oak that's at least two inches thick and defied all laws of gravity to end up in our kitchen cupboards!? No way in hell." And before Stiles could dwell on the notion that he rather enjoyed the verbalisation of that fact that he and Lydia were currently sharing a kitchen and living space and would be for the foreseeable near future by the looks of the weather outside, he spun around to tear the post-it from the wall. "I am really hungry but we are not eating that witchcraft! You hear me?" He finished turning back around to face her. The problem being Lydia was no longer there.

In front of the corner kitchen unit, stood Lydia leaning against it rather comfortably. She was smiling slightly, twirling among her delicate fingers a rather delectable looking green apple.

"Lydia..." Stiles' heart seemed to stop all together and he eased forward just a fraction, arms out relenting, silently pleading her not to take a bite.

He blinked and Lydia just knew he was about to charge straight for her but before he could rip the juicy fruit away from her grasp she had already sunk her teeth into the thing, consuming a bite as big as she could manage. A munching sound filled the cabin, though, to Stiles it was more like a deadly crunch.

"NO!" He ran to her, holding his breath in wait, he lightly cupped her arms as she swallowed. "Lydia what did you do!"

Lydia's eyed seemed to squeeze shut in agony. "Oh my god, Stiles." Her big doe-eyes shot open to stare up at her best friend. He looked terrified, clutching one of her arms more forcefully and palming her delicate cheek with his free remaining hand. She still held the dripping apple up only an inch away from her lips.

"Lydia!"

"Oh my god, Stiles..." She said again. "An apple has never tasted so good." And then she began to laugh...so freely, I might add.

"W...wh..what?" Stiles could breathe again and he too allowed himself to smile, his gaze never straying from hers. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!" He grinned.

The apple now appeared more tantalising than ever he decided, its waxy coat shone as the flames of the fire flickered and Stiles could resist it no longer.

He bent his head low, his forehead unintentionally brushing Lydia's own and the banshee seemed to stare openly at him, expectantly even and all of sudden he took a big chomp from the glossy green orb, straight from Lydia's own hand and she squealed with laughter yet again.

"No, get your own!" She playfully grumbled but Stiles was having none of it and wrapped his arms tightly around her in a firm hug going for another bite. Lydia had no way of escape and it resulted in her too trying to devour as much of the apple as she possibly could whilst Stiles munched on the other half.

With their noses knocking together, midriffs rubbing against the other, Lydia couldn't help but gloat with a mouthful of apple: "I told you so!" Stiles merely quirked an eyebrow and nodded in acceptance before releasing Lydia from his grasp. He simply finished chewing, wiped the juices away from his mouth with hem of his old t-shirt and kissed Lydia on the temple.

"You told me so..." He confirmed with a sweet smile and went to pick up the old rations that previously lay forgotten on the floor.

...

 _ **AN:**_ _Haha! Please review this x -A_


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